


All Day

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Sitting, M/M, Rimming, Service Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 21:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: “Better than good?” Steve asked, pleased, and nuzzled against Tony’s thigh, planted a kiss there.  “Okay, mister,” he said, and looked up, to see Tony moving one hand up to his forehead, looking down at him questioningly.  “How about you sit on my face?” Steve asked.Just how long could Steve eat Tony out for?  Oh, he could do this all day.





	All Day

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a series of asks I received, [here](https://blossomsinthemist.tumblr.com/post/175061807825/in-the-vein-of-current-posts-steve-to-tony), [here](https://blossomsinthemist.tumblr.com/post/175062140325/tony-being-entirely-unprepared-and-fucking-keening), and [here](https://blossomsinthemist.tumblr.com/post/175062949695/steve-keeps-it-up-until-tony-is-incoherent), on tumblr.

“God, Tony, can I?” Steve mumbled, stroking his fingers up and down Tony’s thigh, feeling the smooth flex of the strong muscles as Tony groaned and arched up into his touch, the softness of the more sensitive skin there, the _warmth_ of him.

“I don’t know why you want to, sport,” Tony groaned, covering his face with one arm, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, and Steve frowned, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness that Tony thought this was so weird, but then Tony sighed and shivered under him and spread his legs and mumbled, “but it’s, it’s, if you don’t mind?”  At the questioning tone of his voice, somehow, Steve’s own uncertainty disappeared, and he leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s lips before he couldn’t anymore for the sake of safety.  Tony sighed, arched up into it, not moving his arm, but his lips softening and parting, sucking gently on Steve’s tongue when he swept it in past his teeth.  It was a sweet, eager, giving sort of kiss, out of all the different types Tony gave him (Tony was such a spectacular kisser, Steve would never get enough, every kiss was perfect), and Steve knew that meant Tony was more than willing, that and the way his body went lax and loose under him, the way Tony arched up against him, all wanton and hot with want, his cock almost hard already where it rubbed against Steve’s stomach.

“Because I like the taste of you,” Steve murmured as he pulled away, against Tony’s jaw, and got to see his little lopsided quirk of a smile as it tugged at his lips.  “Because I love doing it,” he added against Tony’s throat, feeling the scratch of stubble, and Tony moaned a little, tilted his head back, so beautifully willing and responsive.  “Because it’s a thing for me,” Steve added against Tony’s shoulder, “and you’ve gotta be my favorite flavor.”

Tony’s laugh was strangled with a moan.  “Wh-whatever floats your boat, tiger,” he said, but he gasped and arched his hips needily as Steve brushed his nipple with his lips.  And Tony always said he didn’t have much sensitivity in his nipples, Steve thought fondly, pinching at the other with his fingers, tugging until Tony was shoving his hand in his mouth and arching, rubbing his cock up against Steve’s hip.

“It floats my boat,” Steve said, still thumbing over and tugging at his nipple with his fingers as he moved down to press a kiss against Tony’s navel, tracing the dark trail of hair down from it with his tongue, “boy, does it ever, Shellhead.”

“Well,” Tony said, and he sounded breathless, his voice hoarse and raspy, “then who am I to deny you?”

“My fella,” Steve said, “which means you can always deny me, you hear?”  But he was smiling while he said it, tracing his hands down now, over Tony’s thighs again.  Tony moaned and let them spread wide, all lax and soft, not an ounce of resistance, so yeah, he was wanting this.  His cock was dripping, all needy and smeared wet at the head, so Steve leaned forward, wrapping his hands around Tony’s thighs, to lap at it wetly, suck the tip of it into his mouth and play at the head.  Tony moaned, shuddered, made a sweet little breathless noise that sounded almost confused, as he jerked up eagerly into Steve’s mouth, and Steve just sucked at him more eagerly, playing his tongue against the head and giving Tony determined suction until Tony’s hips were rolling up and the breathless sounds he was making were going low and rough in his throat.  He tasted good—bitter and musky, yes, and Steve had the idea that Tony was a little self-conscious about how he tasted in general, but hell, Steve didn’t mind that at all.  He brought his mouth down, nuzzling at Tony’s hot skin, over his pelvis, against his balls, down over his gorgeous, luscious rear curves until Steve pushed his legs up, just a little, rocking him back, and let his lips press to Tony’s tight, dusky little hole in a kiss.

Tony gasped, shuddered all over in his body, all the way down to his toes, and Steve thought he’d shoved his fist in his mouth, but he didn’t look up to check, just let his tongue lap gently at that tight little clenched up place.  Tony was always so tight, and this time was clearly no exception. Steve couldn’t even work his tongue past that tight, tense clench, but he knew he just had to give it time.  He blew gently against it, relishing the startled little noise Tony made, the cutoff little breath of a laugh, the way his feet kicked out just a little, the way he shivered.  “That’s it,” he mumbled, and kissed that sensitive little ring of muscle again, sliding his hand down to rub against it until he could feel Tony’s body shuddering again, and then he started to suck.  Tony gasped again, gave a hoarse choking sound.

Steve kept at it for a while—he could be patient when it came to Tony’s backside, that was for sure—sucking and laving with his tongue, suckling and practically making out with Tony’s sweet hole, but not pushing into it, coaxing Tony’s legs up to drape over his shoulders so his head was cradled by those warm, pillowy thigh muscles. Tony smelled like sex musk and soap down there and not much else, because Tony was always so conscientious about that kind of thing, but Steve still couldn’t get enough of him, the smell of his body, the way precome startled trickling down his cock so that he started being able to taste it under his tongue.  When he could feel Tony’s leg muscles relaxed under his hands, his hole dripping and wet, Steve pulled back to get a breath.  “Feelin’ good?” he asked.

Tony moaned.  “Good, he says,” he breathed hoarsely.

“Better than good?” Steve asked, pleased, and nuzzled against Tony’s thigh, planted a kiss there. “Okay, mister,” he said, and looked up, to see Tony moving one hand up to his forehead, looking down at him questioningly.  “How about you sit on my face?” Steve asked.  It was a selfish request, really—he wanted that angle, wanted Tony’s weight on top of him, pressing him down, wanted to barely be able to _breathe_ , with Tony all around him, everything he could see or taste or smell.

“S-sure,” Tony said. He sounded a little dazed, a little dizzy, so Steve slid up the bed, put a hand on Tony’s back, helped coax him up, a little giddy to see how hard and wet and red Tony’s cock looked already, how flushed he was, how his dark curls were sticking to his cheeks and his forehead, his red bitten lips slick with saliva and the way his mouth hung open, panting, as Steve coaxed him up and lay down on the pillows, guiding him into place with hands on his hip and his round, heavenly rear end, until Tony was straddling him, wincing and gasping a little as he curled his hand around his own cock, holding it up out of Steve’s face.  “This good?” Tony asked, breathlessly.

“Mmm,” Steve said, feeling flushed and hot and warm all the way through with the pleasure of it, the anticipation, “yeah, that’s right.  Get a hand on the headboard, and—and yeah—” Tony obeyed him “—and it’s okay if you let your hard-on rub on my face, or, uh, my hair, that’s fine—” Tony grinned, eyes starry and blown, and mouthed down at him, smile soft and fond, _come slut_ , and Steve blushed and nodded, biting his lip as he looked up at Tony, because it was true; he was so desperate for it, he loved it, he probably would sell himself for the privilege of Tony’s come on his face, in his mouth.

“You like it messy,” Tony mumbled, and rolled his hips a little, humping against Steve’s face, and Steve took a deep breath, nuzzled into it, breathed in the musky sex-smell of him.

“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled.

“All right,” Tony said, sounding a little breathless, and his face looked red and hot now, too.  He scooted up, just a little bit, and then his gorgeous hole was right there again, over Steve’s mouth, and he pushed up, pressed another wet, sucking kiss to the slowly softening rim.

And this was perfect, because Tony deserved this; deserved Steve’s worship to every part of his beautiful body, from his pretty, throbbing cock to his sweet tight hole, his thick luscious thighs, his spectacular, high, tight rear.  Steve dug his thumbs into the muscles of that gorgeous rear end, enjoying their firmness, just the tiniest bit of softness and give, spreading Tony’s cheeks apart as he nestled his face between, took a deep breath and laved his tongue firmly, dragging slow and determined, over Tony’s tight hole. Steve just wanted to give himself up to this, entirely, his own cock throbbing between his legs, heat sweeping over him, even as Tony moaned and shifted his hips, then pressed himself down against Steve’s tongue.   _That’s it_ , Steve wanted to say, _that’s it, just let me worship you, let yourself feel this, let this be good_.  He just hoped Tony felt this the way he meant it, the way he just wanted Tony to feel so, so good, to feel this intimate worship all the way to his toes and know how loved he was, how much Steve adored every inch of him, even his most intimate places, the places Tony thought maybe weren’t the most beautiful, the most appealing.  (Even though his sweet, glorious, lush, round rear was just about—if Tony didn’t realize how gorgeous it was—and his sweet tight hole was just as wonderful as all the rest of it.)

 _You taste so good_ , he wanted to murmur against that vulnerable, clenching, flinching place, _you taste wonderful, you’re wonderful, you’re everything to me, don’t you realize how much pleasing you, pleasuring you, means to me?_  But instead, he just ran his hands up and down over Tony’s thighs, up and down, stroking, soothing, worshiping, up over his rear and back down, pulling Tony down more solidly over his mouth.  Tony was gasping, rolling up on his knees then back down, his strong thighs on either side of Steve’s face, and finally, finally loosening enough that Steve could lick up into that hot tight place, the shuddering muscles inside of Tony, how hot and tight and smooth he was inside. He took it slow at first, until Tony felt softer against his tongue, starting to relax, warm and wet and dripping with Steve’s own spit, and only when he could lick along Tony’s crease and press his tongue up easily into Tony’s body and feel him give, did he start to make things a little more complicated, catching his rim gently between his teeth and sucking on it, teasing him back and forth and up and down with his tongue before he went back to sucking on the trembling rim.  He could hear the way Tony’s sounds were increasing in volume, the gasps, and felt a warm wash of satisfaction, felt it in his cock as Tony started to rock over him, and then his soft gasps started to transmute into moans. Steve rubbed at the sweet cheeks of Tony’s bottom, pulled him further apart, and pushed his mouth closer, trailing his tongue around in circles before he started thrusting it into him, back and forth, feeling Tony loosen and give a little more with each thrust, in a soft wet gentle parody of the way his cock might slide into Tony’s hole, that age-old back and forth thrusting motion.  At times like this he was glad the serum gave him so much stamina, made it so easy for him to do this and do this, without his tongue getting sore or tired with this thrusting motion.

He could feel Tony’s hot, hard cock sliding along his face, all slick and wet, but Tony wasn’t touching himself.  His hands were in constant motion, though, Steve kept feeling them slide into his hair and clench and tug as Tony arched his back and pressed down into Steve’s mouth and moaned long and low and soft, then flutter away again, felt them squeeze at Tony’s own thighs, next to Steve’s hands at times, or, he thought, going back up to the headboard to brace himself.  He was kind of pleased by that—it gave him longer to do this, to make Tony feel good like this.  Tony often took a while to come, and this was the most wonderful way to work him up slow, tasting his earthy musk on his tongue, the soapy taste of his skin, hearing the way he moaned and the strangled little gasps and groans he gasped out in between.

He really could have done this for hours, he could have done this all day, so he kept it up until Tony was openly moaning and rocking back against his tongue, until his sweet hole felt open and relaxed and wet against Steve’s tongue, until it was easy to slip his tongue in and lick, tease and press against Tony’s walls, push on him with his tongue, curl his tongue inside him, and then a little longer, until Tony’s moans were louder, breathy and uneven.  He didn’t often get Tony this lost in it, not so easily, and he wanted to enjoy it.  Only then did Steve shift his grip, pull Tony down a little more firmly against his shoulders, and bring his hand up, grabbing the lube out from under their pillow, getting it open without looking, and covering his fingers in it, then angling himself to push his finger into the tight heat of Tony’s loosened hole.  It was very wet now, sloppy and dripping from Steve’s own saliva, and the way Tony jerked and his thighs squeezed at Steve’s head was incredibly gratifying.  Steve grabbed Tony’s thigh, his hip, more firmly with his other arm, and circled his finger, stroking slow and gentle, rubbing his finger around in slow circles, massaging Tony inside, before he pressed it into that sweet spot inside that he knew would make Tony light up with pleasure. His prostate was always a little more tender, a little more sensitive, when Tony was already warmed up, already hot and into it, and when Tony gave a high, tight, whimpering keen, his body jerking tight and _rippling_ inside, and his thighs squeezing around Steve’s head all over again, he knew he was really feeling it, and God, it was good; Steve was so turned on his head was spinning, dizzy, his own cock jerking.  He could feel it, hot and needy against his stomach.

He licked up into Tony with even more determination, keeping his mouth moving, rubbing his finger into his prostate, keeping that firm pressure there, revving him up, getting him even hotter and sweeter, even as he felt Tony’s cock leaking, smearing over his forehead, his eyebrow, into his hair.  He knew exactly how Tony needed it, how firm he needed that pressure, how firm would be too much.  He licked around his own finger, sliding his tongue over Tony’s softened rim, up in beside it, sucked, keeping that finger moving, a constant massage of Tony’s prostate, gentle pressure, maddening, not stepping off or slowing down, consistent, even as he nuzzled at Tony’s thighs and sucked at his perineum and ran his teeth along his rim, letting them graze him, back and forth, before he sucked at his rim again.  Deep, sucking kisses into Tony’s thighs, a knuckle into his wet perineum, firmly rubbing against the sensitive skin, before he thrust his tongue up into Tony again beside his finger, and Tony gave a broken keening gasp, another one, and jerked up again.

Steve could feel his own cock aching, throbbing, and rolled his hips helplessly, drew up his knees and squeezed his thighs together as if that would help. He felt dizzy and hot and soft and floating, like his whole world had narrowed down to the smell and taste of Tony, his damp thighs and his sweaty skin, the taste of him, the dripping wetness and the soft slick silky-smooth feeling of his muscles inside, even more smooth and wet now with the lube, the gasps he made as Steve dug two fingers now deep into the tender softness of his prostate, his clinging velvety inner walls, crooking them and pressing in and in, then relaxing the hold until he was just slipping the pads of his fingers in gentle circles over Tony’s most tender place.  The sounds he made had Steve’s cock jerking every time, the feel of him inside against his tongue had Steve aching, his fingers itching to touch himself.  But that would have meant that he couldn’t keep touching Tony, and nothing was worth that.

Tony was starting to moan constantly, leaning forward against his arms, hanging onto the headboard, Steve thought, based on the shifting strain of his muscles, the way he squeezed and loosened on his tongue and fingers inside.  “Steve,” he gasped, “oh, Steve, honey, sweetie, s’good, s’s’good, so good, you’re amazing, incredible, you’re the best, oh _God_ , your _tongue_ , your, your, mm, please, please.”

“Mmm,” Steve let himself hum into Tony’s wet entrance, still clenching tight and sweet around his fingers as he let his tongue circle it again and again, lick gently at the clenching muscle.  “Good.” It was muffled, but the vibrations made Tony gasp and arch.

“ _Please_ ,” he gasped, “ _Steve_ , sweetheart, love, lovely, _beautiful_ , sweetheart, God, I, I.”

“Feeling good?” Steve murmured into his hole, and Tony flinched, gasped, his cock jerking.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, loud and breathless, “please, can I, I need to, Steve, need to come, please, please.”

“Come any time,” Steve murmured softly, and licked over Tony’s shivering, flinching, needy hole again, before shoving his tongue deep inside him.

“ _Honey_ ,” Tony moaned brokenly, and his hips were really rolling now.  Steve gave his rear end a playful smack and moaned himself, letting his desire bleed out into the sound, as he gave himself over to worshiping Tony’s hole all over again, returning his fingers to their constant teasing pressure against Tony’s sweet spot.  He couldn’t have said how long he’d been there, but he had an idea of how much longer it was going to take, how much longer Tony needed Steve to build him up. He kept at it, laving his tongue over his crease, enjoying the way his soft, sensitive skin, wrinkled around his hole and his scrotum, felt under his tongue, the scratchy rasp of his short neatly trimmed pubic hair, the way it felt to drag his tongue along, strong and hot, over Tony’s hole, over the rim, around his own fingers, before he pushed it forcefully up inside him.  He could measure how close Tony was by the way his cock felt so, so hot at the tip, sliding along Steve’s closed eyelid, into his hair, the way he was leaking, the sounds he made, more and more of them, his words going incoherent and fading into noises, little throaty moans, hoarse hitching little gasps, high-pitched yelps and soft keening moans as he rocked back into Steve’s mouth.  He was really moving now, and Steve gloried in it, pleased and proud and so damn _satisfied_ , to have Tony riding him like that, his fingers, his tongue.  It felt so good, and he could feel himself just getting lost in it himself, the rhythm of it, the warmth of it, the pressure of Tony’s thighs over him, his weight, pressing into Steve’s face, down against his shoulders.

He started pushing in against Tony’s prostate with more force again, licking up between his two fingers, tasting his own salty damp skin, rubbing his fingers around and around, in the kind of soft but firm circles that always got Tony worked up, rubbing his tongue against the rim of Tony’s hole, sucking a soft bruise into the tender skin of his perineum, before he went back to licking and sucking and fucking Tony with his tongue.  He wasn’t sure if Tony could come from this, though—he squeezed his thigh, rocked Tony up and down a little (oh, that felt—it slapped his own cock against his thigh, his stomach, sent little bursts of pleasure down his spine, and he could feel himself splattering himself with precome, little splashes of it, as he moved), tried to rub Tony’s cock against his face, give him the message that it’d be good, more than good, if he jerked off right about now.

“Jerk off on me,” he mumbled, even though it was barely audible with his mouth buried against Tony’s hole, his lips numb and wet, dragging against Tony’s rim, and Tony gasped, moaned, and then it was muffled, and it sounded as if Tony had bitten down on his fist.  His hand came down then, curled around his cock, just holding himself, and Steve sped up on his prostate, feeling Tony’s muscles coiling tight, the way he was tensing, his balls tight and high, jerking over him—sucked wetly, stroking with his tongue—

Tony was coming then, crying out, making soft wet little noises like he was almost in tears, his body jerking tight and spasming beautifully around Steve’s fingers, his tongue, clenching down tight, his come spurting out hot and sticky and wet all over Steve’s face, smearing into his hair—he could smell it, smell _Tony_ —and it was so—so—

He was coming then, crying out against Tony’s hole, feeling himself spasm out of control, arch up, pleasure sweeping over him, twisting him tight, so that all he could do was hang onto Tony and pant into him, moaning and gasping.  He was so gone, so lost on pleasure, that he barely fought it, did little more than give a low mournful sound of loss and rub his cheek against Tony’s thigh, when he felt Tony pull back, and let his fingers slide out of him.

Tony was sitting on Steve’s chest a moment later (hot, wet hole still smeared and dripping, Steve thought with dazed pride), and then he was rolling to one side, and coming down on the bed beside him with an oof.  His fingers were there a moment later, pushing sweaty, come-stained hair back out of Steve’s face, and then he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s come-smeared forehead, before he slumped over and buried his face in Steve’s shoulder.  Tony was still trembling, too, Steve noted with dazed pride, and curled one arm around him, letting his hand slide over his ribs and slump there.  They laid there for a long time, he thought, until he got enough presence of mind to roll over, press his face into Tony’s shoulder, hold him closer.

“You eat ass like a goddamn champion,” Tony mumbled, after a while, sounding dazed, and Steve gave a little laugh, proud of that, proud of Tony’s approval, proud that he’d made Tony come.

“Do my best,” he mumbled.

“You always do,” Tony said, fondly, his words still slow and thick, and then he was moving again, running his lips over Steve’s forehead, licking up his own come, Steve realized, with a shiver of heat that went all the way down to his cock and made it jump even though he’d just come.  “And God, did you—did you come from that?”  Steve felt himself flush, nodded, and Tony leaned in, curled his hand warm against Steve’s cheek, and pressed a firm kiss to Steve’s forehead, one that made him feel dizzy and swooning and, well, sweet and good.  Loved, somehow.  “You deserve a _medal_ for the way you make love to my asshole, Steve.”

Steve laughed, squeezed his eyes shut against the warm, tender, affection, the emotions that went through him, as Tony’s tongue tenderly, softly, licked come off his face. He knew he’d gone bright red, even into his ears.  “Just love you,” he said.  “And I could do that _all day_.”

Tony’s tongue stumbled a moment, stilled, then went back to licking softly at Steve’s forehead, before he pressed another soft kiss there.  “Yeah, babe,” he said.  “I know you could.  And I—I love you, too.”

“Good,” Steve said, and sighed, let himself go limp under Tony’s soft kisses and the cleansing little licks of his tongue.  “Just give me a minute,” he mumbled.  “I’ll get up, wash out my mouth, and then . . .”

“Mmm, sounds good,” Tony said.  “God, Steve, honey, I haven’t come that much, that _hard_ , in … in … .”

“Months, I think,” Steve said, mumbling, pleased.  He lifted one hand without opening his eyes and slapped it gently against Tony’s ass. “It’s all that attention to your sweet spot.  Made you clench up all pretty, come real good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed. “Yeah.  Thank you so much, Steve, honey.”

“Any time,” Steve said, and he meant it.  Tony deserved every bit of attention he had to give.


End file.
